September 26, 2006

Sense and Sensibility

Getting dressed this morning I did something a little unusual. I willingly put on a pair of granny panties. Not disgusting or huge panties, or Bridget Jones tummy sucking panties, but full caboose, no design, plain white cotton undies. And you know what--I felt so sensible all day. Is that weird?

I got up on the wrong side of the bed, I was tired and didn't really want to go to work. I showered and it was still chilly. I wanted coffee, oatmeal, and E! News on my couch...I certainly wasn't interested in proper primping, packing a lunch, or sitting at my desk all day solving the greater Sacramento area's insurance problems. I think that's why I put them on in the first place. Feeling somewhat rebellious and spiteful, I picked out a sloppy outfit, taking full advantage of the last few days of United Way Campaign related mid-week casual dress. Jeans, polo, flats....I didn't even want to do my hair. I think that's why I chose the chonies. You know how there is nothing better than being in a totally reasonable outfit with a leopard thong on underneath? Well I was determined for my booty to mirror my mood so I put on the plainest skivs I own. But seriously, I think it might have had an unconcious effect on my decision making.

On a somewhat related yet unrelated note, I'm feeling slightly under the weather, so tonight I stayed home instead of attending a birthday dinner for a friend of mine (once again, a sensible decision...who am i? passing up a social occasion to take care of myself. But btw, I am still wearing the undies) Anyway--so I'm here watching Dancing With the Stars, and can I just say-- how fun is this show? I think I might be addicted. Watching the behind-the-scenes rehearsal footage before each dance, however, and seeing Mario Lopez wearing a headband--that's a little much. Ever since he cheated on Ali Landry and they divorced like 5 weeks after being married, I've just lost the pubescent AC Slater love that I once felt for him during the Saved by the Bell Years. And seeing him in a headband doing the tango and taking himself very seriously...what a douche!

God I'd go on with this incredibly informative rant about underwear and headbands, but Sex and the City is on. I LOVE night's in!

September 18, 2006

Wedding Potential

Don't Panic. I'm not tying the knot.

And for the record, the mere mention of weddings doesn't generally make me all googly and bust out my scrapbook filled with dresses, and flowers, and cakes I hope to see in my future once Mr. Right hides that giant rock in my champagne glass. But seeing as I just spent my entire last weekend at my cousin's wedding in Chico, and I'm going to be spending this coming weekend in Redding at my friend Lisa's wedding, I think it is normal that the idea of wedded bliss has been something I've been kicking around...Probably not in the way you might think though.

Now don't get me wrong--I can be totally girly. Last summer I attended a wedding with a friend of mine where I was just "the date". I didn't know these people, their memories were not my memories, and their futures had absolutely no bearing on mine. But I still cried like a baby when the gorgeous bride walked down the aisle and was given away to her betrothed. And when the drunk maid of honor got up and made her speech--I most definitely wiped away a tear or two. Was I actually feeling great emotion because of the intensity of the relationships present? Heck no! I mean I didn't know a soul there. That emotion was genuine though. I was 100% touched by this lovely IDEA.

The whole process got me thinking about how sometimes I think that we all fall prey to loving the idea of things more than the actual things themselves. I mean, what is the purpose of a wedding? The pat answer is of course to declare your undying love for your lover, partner, or S.O. that you've most likely been shacking up with, in front of your friends and family, right? Often times, however, it ends up being a mess of bridezillas, corking fees, catering conflicts, and bitchy bridesmaids. And for a second, I was thinking how much that sucks. But then I realized, sometimes things get a little messy when you are trying to obtain the ideal, and who am I to criticize that? I mean I love the imaginary, the fantasy, the prospective. (English Major Dork remember???) I love "how I hope it will be" and "how it might end up" in any situation. I love potential...THAT is what makes me googly...and I've decided that a thinking person can, and frankly should, find something to get all googly over. And who cares if that's cliche!!!

It's like autumn. I LOVE autumn. LOVE IT! Anyone who has been around me the last couple of weeks as the weather has cooled will testify to the fact that every breeze that has blown with even the most minute force has started me on an oration on the many joys of the fall. But I'm not even sure I really do love the fall. I think I just love the potential of fall. I love the idea of the leaves changing, because I love the thought of nature rejuvinating (even though I HATE leaves blowing everywhere, and kill me before you make me pick up a rake!). I love the smells of apples and cinnamon, because I love the idea of freshly baked homemade treats (but me+ a kitchen + baking supplies = a recipe for DISASTER). I love the crispness in the autumnal air (even though everyone that knows me knows how much I HATE being cold). I love the comforts of a wooly sweater (even though my skins is sensitive, wet wool is itchy, and HELLO! Fall is um...a bit damp). I love snuggling under down blankets (ok ok, there's absolutely nothing I don't love about that!). But even if a lot of these things are just ideas, is it so bad to fantasize???

All these romanticized notions of everything in life-- picture perfect weddings, crisp fall days, simple lives where the complications of "the real world" don't get to you--they are unattainable. This is no surprise. We all know the wedding photographer is going to be late, I will undoubtebly get caught in the rain in my sweater (double itch), and yard work is still going to have to be done, and the bills are still going to need to be paid. All of those things are GOING to happen, so there's definitely that pessimistic part of me that is committed to reason and knows that things need to be dealt with, life is long, and there's not too much I can do about it. But you know what-- that's depressing-- and who wants to walk around thinking about that??? I'm definitely realistic enough to forget about trying to make things in life perfect. Screw living up to a greeting card fantasy kind of life. But you know what, screw the extreme reality of it all too! There has to be a happy medium. When it comes right down to it and the world of reality tries to threaten my mood, --I'll just think of something warm and fuzzy--and you know what, I'll be happy in that moment.

Optimism is totally underrated.

September 11, 2006

A is for Anxious, B is for Broke, C is for Civic LOVE!!!

As if I needed another reason to be anxious, my car decided to start making this horrible screeching noise last night. I don't mean like cute farm animal squealing, but rather metal on metal grossness. So in an effort to take on this probelm head on, my roommate and I went to Safeway to buy wine...which upon first glass gave me an immediate headache. BOO! It is times like this that I wonder how the universe works. Why of all weeks, does my car have to go and "need attention" this week? I have 100 things on my plate that all need to be dealt with like 10 minutes ago, and then my car goes and acts like it needs some lovin. I love you little know this...I know I haven't washed you in a bit, but don't mistake that for not being loved. I love you! Needless to say, this has catapulted my anxiety into outer space.

Ironically enough, it is times like this when I feel like the little boy who cried wolf. I have been so busy being anxious about things that ultimately will not affect my life, when this gigantic situation of SUCK comes along and really threatens to screw things up. I mean your car is your mode of transport, your ticket to independence, and c'mon, we all know it is my purse outside my purse. Not having my car accessible to me at all times is REALLY infuriating. The problem is, I have spent like 5 days straight stressing about the wedding I'm going to this weekend, the pros and cons of self tanner, strapless bras, my boyfriend's outfits, my own outfits, tummy sucker-in-ers, and all this NONSENSE (yes I am admitting its all nonsense) has left me with little room to actually cope with the stress of things that are actually stressful.

Yes that's right, I have wasted my stress on the not-stressful, and now that I really have something to stress about, I am all out of coping skills. I bet my body is working overtime producing cortisol...the "stress hormone that makes belly fat" know, that you see on late night infomercials selling bottles of pills that 'melt fat away'. This is also very timely. Instead of being able to face a challenge head on and attack it, my body is making "belly fat". Which leads me back to tummy sucker-in-ers....You see it's a vicious cycle with no end in sight. Awesome.

September 10, 2006

Norstrom Rack: 1 Holly: 0

Shopping for boy shoes is just lame.

However, with that being said, I found myself a new pair of shoes at the Rack, so forget menswear! I eschew you! Granted I don't have to actually feel guilty about this purchase because the shoes were silver and that is the required color of shoe that I must commondere to wear with my bridesmaid dress. You see, I found a pair of silver shoes at Famous Footwear (I know, my butt just puckered typing that) that I wasn't too fond of, but at only $34 I couldn't pass them up! Figuring that I would only be wearing them for a couple of hours I rationalized that I didn't have to be a goddess of fashion and this was just too good of a deal to pass up....but then I found these Nordstrom Rack shoes...even cuter! A pair of Steve Madden silvery, sorta strappy sandalish pumps. And the icing on the cake...a mere $26!!! Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting When I get um, more smarter-er and stuff, I will figure out how to post pictures. A picture would be useful here. Anyway, point being Nordstrom Rack a mild success, though I am still defeated. It became clear to me this evening that I have about zero patience to put up with anymore shopping for BF. I quit. I tried my best to be a male fashion stylist, but ya know what...I'm too girl for this shit! I like pretty things, and sparkly things, and pink things...and I think I am just no good at picking out boy clothes.

I better get some serious lovin.

(And on a totally unrelated note, as I type this I am listening to the Doves album Lost Souls...Wow! its delicious.)

Don't Waste Your Time or Time Will Waste You

With the boyfriend out of town, I thought this would be the perfect weekend to indulge myself in some chick-ness, relax and spend some time alone without feeling guilty or missing out, finish up some projects that have been hanging over my head, sleep ridiculously late, and maybe go out with some friends I have not been the best at making time for as of late. I am finding, however, that apparently this list was far more ambitious that I initially thought because it is Sunday afternoon and I have done, let me see...yup--nothing on that list. Well, if you count the fact that I did almost finish the BBC version of Coupling on dvd that I rented last night as I was cooking myself dinner (which btw, I didn't even end up eating), then I guess I did do some chick indulging. But I think if you are watching girly shit while doing other chores though, it doesn't really count!

So what have I done, you ask? Well since said boy's trip did not begin until Saturday morning, I stayed there Friday night which just shot Saturday morning to bits because I didn't even end up home until almost 11. I spent the latter part of Saturday morning and early afternoon having serious conversations to avoid impending family drama this weekend at my cousin's wedding which was somewhat exhausting. This included one well-intended lecture from my Aunt Amy via cell phone (of course after asking me for directions to Arden Fair mall which is the real reason she called) telling me to swallow my pride and make up with my cousin, because 1 week after the wedding I won't really care that she has been periodically behaving like Bridezilla for the last at least 6-8 months and I shouldn't mess up my own memories of the wedding because I'm stubborn (which is probably sound advice), and one well-inedited white flag waving session with said cousin which then turned into a bullshitting fest because we had stuff to catch up on because we have been fighting for over a month. Actually, though tiring, I felt much better afterwards, which is promising. And even though I did do the proverbial pride swallowing thing etc, I am ultimately happy that my cousin and I are once again speaking, and hopefully we will be able to have a fun and celebretory weekend this coming fri, sat, and sun at her wedding and supporting festivities (rehearsal dinner, wedding, nightout after the reception, and sunday brunch)....All of this brings me to Saturday afternoon.

The boyfriend is lovely. The boyfriend looks good in clothes. The boyfriend despises shopping (this is something we do NOT have in common). He tells me Friday night that he is stressed because with the upcoming wedding has nothing to wear (this is something, oddly enought, that we DO have in common, as I find myself saying that ever so often, and I have not yet figured out WTF I am wearing to any event except the actual wedding). With a small inventory of his closet Saturday morning I realize that although "nothing" is not necessarily an accurate description of the situation, there is some work that needs to be done before we leave on Friday afternoon (T-minues 5 1/2 days and counting). With a list consisting of: darker washed jeans, a nice yet casual shirt befitting of a rehearsal dinner at a brewery (not as easy as it sounds folks!), and a new pair of casual shoes that do not qualify as athletic apparel---I send him off to have a manly weekend of drinking too much, eating too much, and gambling too much with his uncles in Lake Tahoe (and thank god because he sooooo deserves a little vacay!)

Well I'll be damned, but I have made the steadfast determination that shopping for boy is: a) not as fun as shopping for myself and b) not as easy when the boy is not there. I found myself Saturday afternoon in Nordstrom at the Rail making this very adorable but unfortunate sales guy try on shirts that no matter how cute they look, I'm most positive my fashion frugal boyfriend will not be able to justify the price. He isn't cheap by any means, but clothing is not necessarily the outlet he chooses when it comes to spending the cheddar. Knowing this, however, I still picked up a lovely shirt that, although out of his comfort zone, I though would look adorable on him. Frankly I bought it because I just couldn't bear to leave it at the store. I then rummaged through my friend's husbands closet and found 2 pairs of Prada jeans (TAGS STILL ATTACHED!!!) and a pair of nice dress pants. Not sure how the Prada jeans would fit, and realizing that they are a bit long and the thought of tailoring adding extra stress, I found some backup jeans at Banana Republic that fit the "darker, nicer, trouser style" I pictured in my head. Banana Repubic is wonderful, I wish I lived in their website. Its kind of like "The world of Ralph Lauren" I wanna live there playing polo and wearing wooly argyle, staying warm by the fire in the study...but that's an aside. Moving right along, I went home...POOPED. And with nothing at all for myself, I might add, except a $10 Brass Plum necklace that I may or may not use for my own Rehearsal dinner outfit...which by the way is still To Be Determined! (story for a later date).

It is wonder I had only enough energy to come home, remove heels immediately, change into a ridiculously comfy outfit, buy a few things at Safeway for my delicious dinner that I was planning to enjoy alone and on my couch while watching horrifying television that I would never admit to watching (ok ok, Laguna Beach re-runs, Hogan Knows Best, and maybe an episode of Iron Chef or two!) But after this day full of madness, I fall asleep before this dinner was even done baking. Thank God for oven timers or I might have slept all night on my couch while doing my part to start a house fire, which would have been AWESOME considering I don't have renter's insurance. Incidentally I was so tired that when it was done I just let it cool, didn't even taste it ,(though I must admit I indulged in a few spoonfuls of birthday cake ice cream while waiting for this to cool) wrapped it in saran wrap, and went to bed. WHEW!

Enter Sunday morning...Woken up by the sound of multiple text messages in a row (which by the way ranks right up there with my effing alarm clock) I realize that the weekend is now officially half over, and I have completed nothing from my wish list. I end up, however, back out shopping for boyfriend, 100% commited to the fashion to-do-list. My roommate and her man were heading out to Folsom to check out the Gap Outlet (since both of them are also sans outfit for this weekend's wedding) so I figured I would tag along, and maybe pick up some back up shirts for BF, since the one that I ultimately chose at Nordstrom looked wonderful on the sales guy (and surely even better on MY guy) but carried a $70 price tag that, as I alluded to earlier, might require a spoonful of sugar, if you know what I mean. The Gap outlet yielded 3 more shirts of varying styles and prints, and an outfit hand picked by roommate's BF that consisted of adorable pinstrip-ey pants, an undershirt (sure to be BFs favorite part) and a v-neck sweater that will look appropriately chic for an "occasion" dinner, though casual enough to be clothes he just "happened to have on". The upside: this outfit will not require the new pair of shoes which my initial list posessed (score!). The downside: the conservative preppy look might be a harder sell, is long sleeved (weather is supposed to be around 80 degrees), and the inseam on the pants I'm almost quite sure is about an inch too long. Must see on to determine if that 1 inch makes or breaks the outfit. So the dilemma now is-- do I go out and find a new pair of shoes just in case????

Pro New Shoe Shopping:
BF needs more casual shoes anyway- having a shoe wardrobe that consists of flip flops he won't wear in public, very fashionable Pumas (though the colors limit outfit combos), New Balance Sneakers, and mucho expensiv-o shoes that he wears to work, does not leave BF much wiggle room when it comes to casual yet dressy affairs. The stylishness of the New Balances goes unappreciated (ha ha) but the expensive shoes might be a little too nice, or he might "feel" a little too dressed up since he only wears them to work. Though I may not need to pick up a new paiir shoes now, I feel confidant that since this was not the first time BF has had this problem, it won't be the last time. And being the solution oriented chick I am, I'd like to just squash this issue, and make his fashion-life a little bit easier.

Con New Shoe Shopping:
What the hell do I know about men's quasi-casual shoes. Let me think for a minute...oh yeah that's right...NOTHING. I know what I think looks cute...but I don't know what he will and won't tolerate/wear. I don't want to pick something he hates and have him never wear them again, and I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. And shopping for shoes for someone who is pretty gosh darn picky is intimidating!!! Not to mention I haven't done shit for myself this weekend, and guess who still has to go back to work tomorrow morning and pretend this weekend was refreshing as ever. So, I'm torn.

I think I will just go to Nordstrom Rack. Check the selection, and see what tickles me. Or rather what might tickle him.

And in the laundry isn't even done! :)

September 06, 2006

Things You Might Not Know

1. When I watch Jeopardy! alone, I still feel compelled to shout out the answers.
2. I can't believe the lady in those Glade commercials has any friends.
3. By the time I was ten years old I was the height I am now. It wasn't until about 15 years later that I actually appreciated it.
4. I love reality television, but I totally draw the line at shows like Wife Swap, Beauty and the Geek, and pretty much any show about weddings. I do have some standards.
5. Even though I got my degree in English and loved it, I was really a much better math student. During Finals week almost every semester I would tell myself that next semester I would take a Calculus class-- damnit! -- just for fun. At least in Calculus there were 'right' and 'wrong' answers. I never did though.
6. Latin is one of the best classes I have ever taken. If Math was a language, it would be Latin -- it's lovely that way. Structuring sentences was so much fun! When I discovered that in college -- that there was a class for dorks who love Math but also really, really love words -- I realized I was probably in the wrong major. But at that point it was a little too late.
7. I have an irrational fear of flying that I really didn't develop until my mid-20s. I flew a lot as a teen and never had a problem, and now -- holy hell, I white knuckle it and breathe shallow the whole time. I'm seriously considering medication this summer when we go to Hawaii.
8. Speaking of Hawaii, I have never been. I know! It's a travesty. My parents lived there for years before they were married, vacationed there, and as a child I was told "Hawaii is where you were conceived." (Um Gross, btw. Luckily as a kid I didn't really get it.) My parents always said they would take me when I turned ten. You can see how that turned out.
9. I was born on Saturday October 14th. Had my mother not stopped to iron her outfit and vaccuum the house after her water broke, I may have been born on Friday the 13th. My parents were living in Michigan because my father was playing football for the Detroit Lions. Because of that I make my squishy, fat TV debut (seriously, I looked like a Sumo Wrestler)during the annual Detroit Lions Thanksgiving game of 1978 -- this is the first time my California family saw me.
10. Growing up my Aunt and Uncle had a German Shepherd named Butch, of whom I was very fond. One day when I'm about 3 while he is enjoying his food in the garage I decided he should play with me. Instead of waiting for him to finish his lunch, I kick him, you know just to let him know who's boss around here. He calmly picked me up by my head and transported me to the other side of the garage and went back to enjoying his kibbles and bits. It proves my first experience in the hospital and as I roll into the ER squirming, the hospital staff puts me into a strait jacket and sutures my head under a local anisthetic. I watch the doctor the whole time and it looks like he is using a needle and thread. Despite that fact that my grandmother hand sewed outfits for me and my dolls growing up, sewing is a hobby that I never really take to.
11. I met Garrett at work, and despite the fact that he was very nice to me, I didn't really like him. I used to be very prone to snap judgments. I vividly remember sitting out in front of Peet's telling my girlfriend (who was interested in him at the time) that she should under NO CIRCUMSTANCES date him. I can be a real idiot sometimes.
12. Wwe actually started dating, I knew almost immediately that he was the man I was going to marry. He's like no one else I know, and we are absolutely perfect compliments to each other. I almost can't remember what life was like without him.
13. My mother has always hated fish, and as such never cooked it growing up. I always just assumed I hated it until I was about 25 and someone dared me, as a very vocal fish-hater, to eat sushi. As a sidebar, don't ever dare me to do anything. I don't have the power to resist. Anyway, it was love at first bite! I can't believe I spent a large portion of my life hating seafood when now it is pretty much my favorite food group -- raw, cooked, dead, alive -- whatever, I'll enjoy it! My mom is understandably disappointed.
14. My cousin Kelly is just about the only person who can make me laugh so hard I can't breathe.
15. As a child we never had cable and on the weekends my parents always talked me into playing educational games like "Hey, let's play learn new vocabulary words" or "Hey, let's memorize the capitals of foreign countries." What a rip-off, right? I like to thank them as an adult for doing their part to prep me so I am able to be the reason that my team wins porn at Pub Trivia.
16. I am physically unable to stomach movies starring Wesley Snipes.
17. I am an only child and an only grandchild on one side of my family. This means my grandparents have volumes of audio tapes (yes, AUDIO TAPES) of me drinking water. I was NOT starved for attention as a child.
18. After two years at Cal Poly I needed to take a break from college. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I just knew I needed to do something different and I thought dropping out of school to figure it out seemed like a fantastic idea. You can imagine my parents were not pleased with that stellar explanation, but luckily they obliged and let me move home . To this day I am so grateful for their trust in my intuition, becase two months later my father had a heart attack and died in our home.
19. It bums me out that Garrett will never know my father. In some ways, they are so similar. My dad could have used another dude on his team. He grew up with a single mother and three sisters, then married my mom and had a daughter. Although he spent years of his life as a professional athlete and was incredibly masculine, he had an almost instinctual understanding of women.
20. After my father passed away I needed a change and decided I should move to Los Angeles. Why? Well, um...heck...why not? It looked interesting on TV. Some of the best years of my life were spent living in LA. They were certainly tough in the emotional aftermath of losing my father and not really knowing anyone, but I have never felt more independent. I carved out my own spot there, made life long friends, and have more crazy memories than I know what to do with. I'm nostalgic for that time, but holy hell I would never move back there. THE PARKING! THE TRAFFIC! THE FAKENESS! It's comical. But it was amazing at the time.
21. When I moved up to Sacramento, I didn't know a soul. I rented a room in a 5 bedroom house full of girls going to Sac State and it was there I met my friend Sarah who would be my roommate for the next six years. SIX YEARS. Oh my god, who lives with the same person for six years? When she moved down south 4 months ago, it hit me harder than I expected. I'm so lucky to have had such a great experience with her and to have her in my life.
22. Two years after my dad died I saw a psychic on a whim, just to see what would happen. This psychic immediately said she felt a presence in the room that was paternal (I had not told her of my father's passing) and then proceeded to repeat an entire conversation that my father and I had had years earlier about rollerblades. (Rollerblades? Who knew they held such psychic relevance). Ever since that day, whoa, am I a believer. And also, I'm not gonna lie, a little freaked out about rollerblades.
23. I can recite just about every word in Reality Bites. When I first saw that movie, I had no idea how accurately it actually captured the post-collegiate experience of your early 20s.
24. I spent the first 25 years of my life having no idea how to cook. I mean literally being stumped by the idea boiling water. After one too many meals of pasta-roni one night I flipped out and decided that I could not spend another day eating food that came from a box. So I bought some cookbooks and decided it was about time to FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT. And I did. And at the risk of sounding all irritating and braggy, I'm a fantastic cook now. I honestly think that ability is more about attitude and perserverance than it is about natural talent. Jesus that sounds like it should be a tag-line right below some jerk scaling the side of a mountain or something. GOD! But it's true, dude, I swear.
25. I'm wordy.

Celebrity Parents Should Just Give Up

Dearest Dina,

Lindsay Lohan is idiot. And frankly, she is idiot spawn, so its really difficult to even blame her.

I read the article about the letter that the studio exec sent her the other day and I thought to myself...Wow, Lindsay Lohan is a total fuck up. She is getting paid millions of dollars to show up and look beautiful (which I will give her, she does nicely) and she can't even handle doing that. She is too busy being hungover, or still high, or still walking funny, or whatever, after wild nights out with her hotel-heir boyfriend, or lounging at their Malibu beach pad. I get it. Life is rough. But c'mon she should still be able to get to work on time. She doesn't have to stop at the bank to cash her welfare check on the way to work while riding the I don't know what the heck could be keeping her from showing up at like 9 or 10 am to a beach front set fully catered with fabulous craft services...since I'm pretty sure her Mercedes works just fine. (Well, then again it might be in the shop because another dangerous papparazzo hit it, but then I'm guessing she could probably borrow Harry Morton's Rover, or one of the many Benzos that she has purchased for your mooch ass).

So then I read, and saw you come out and say that the studio exec is a BIG MEANIE! How can he say such harsh words to your baby...she's just a little girl. Interesting word choice. I think just a few weeks ago we were all watching you "little girl" leave her teen years behind, celebrate her 20th birthday drinking champagne on a yacht, and oh yeah...give head to some random guy in a fucking rowboat. Mrs. Lohan (it is Mrs, right? I mean technically you are still married to that imprisoned drug addict right??) I hate to say it, but your little baby bumpkin is hittin the skids...I mean little girl she's not. She's definitely going to NEED botox in the next 5 years or else the years of 24-7 tanning booths might start rearing their ugly needless to say I think "little girl" is not the set of words that anyone with any brains might choose to use while describing her.

Oh wait, but on top of all that ridiculousness, your pathetic excuse making goes even further. Not only is your little baby a classy hard worker, but she was "stricken with exhaustion, and dehydrated." Oooooooooooooooooh, is that all???? Well maybe she should get some effing sleep and drink some water. And while she's at it, maybe we can wrap her up in her blankie and burp her after every meal at Koi. PUHLEEZ!!! Lindsay has now been hospitalized for "exhaustion or dehydration" at least 3 times that my good friends at UsWeekly have informed me of, and at only the tender age of 20??? What next? Why don't you just admit that your "little girl" has been doing some crank heavy-E, and she is just too busy grinding her teeth on set to ask for a glass of Evian? What are you going to tell everyone when she gets send off to Promises Malibu for dippin a little too heavy into the nose candy? That she's going to fat camp??? Well at least that one will be believable!!! Instead of being honest, we have to hear you re-hash the tragedy of "bronchial asthma" OVER AND OVER....thanks Dina, we get it. But frankly, I'm just sick of it. Sick of hearing the remedial spin-doctoring that your little pea sized, post-Rockette fame, celebri-mom brain can come up with for explaining away why your daughter is a ho.

Yes that's right, your daughter is a ho! And frankly, a waste of oxygen...and we all know that clean air is a precious commodity in smog stricken LA. I suggesst suicide. But then, hey--to each his own.

Warmest Regards!


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